


So Kiss Me

by matchst_ck



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Elements, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mickey and Ian should always be happy beans, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchst_ck/pseuds/matchst_ck
Summary: “So remember Mickey, don’t give your kisses, especially your first kiss to just anybody. It should be somebody special, somebody who deserves it. Somebody worth your love, because you my sweetheart have so much love to give. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”---In which Mickey takes his mother's advice and thinks long and hard about who deserves those kisses. That ginger idiot better appreciate it.





	So Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is but writers block has been plaguing me. I also don't know how I feel about this but I feel thankful that I've managed to write something. I think this comes across as quite sad, which I'm feeling right now but I am nothing if not a sucker for a happy ending. So. Onward.

When Mickey is five, everything his mother tells him is gospel. It must be true because she said so.

_‘Don’t drink from the faucet Mickey, frogs will come out. Here’s a glass.’_

_‘Don’t wear your gloves in the house Mickey, take them off or--- yes, I know they’re Iggy’s but you have to share--- or you won’t feel the benefit outside’_

_‘I know it doesn’t taste good, cough syrup never does. But the worse it tastes, the better it’ll make you feel’_

So when he asks her about kissing, because he’s seen the junkie neighbours attached at the mouth, he sits by her on the ratty couch and listens with rapt attention to her every word. Mandy is snoozing in her arms, so his mother is whispering.

“Kissing Mickey, it’s special. So special. Especially that first kiss. You only have one first kiss to give and you should be careful to choose someone worthy, someone you care for very, very much.”

And Mickey is five, but Mickey notices everything. He has to, or he’d never dodge the fists coming his way. 

“You don’t kiss dadd---” he stops, abruptly. He can still feel the sharp pain of a slap to the cheek the first time he’d chosen to call Terry daddy. ( _‘Fucking pussy word, I aint no one’s daddy._ ) “---you don’t kiss dad.” 

His mother only nods. She doesn’t, Mickey’s never seen them kiss. But it’s okay, because his mother kisses him all the time when dad isn’t home. He thinks it should be his job to let his mama kiss him whenever she wants because she smiles every time she does it. He promises inwardly, to never complain or wipe it away whenever she presses her soft lips to his skin.

“So remember Mickey, don’t give your kisses, especially your first kiss to just anybody. It should be somebody special, somebody who deserves it. Somebody worth your love, because you my sweetheart have so much love to give. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”

And with that she brushed her hand over her son’s dark hair, cupped his face so she could lay her lips against his soft, chubby cheek.

***

“Mama!” Mickey screams as he comes in the house, not even taking the time to check if his dad is home. If Terry is home, Mickey’s going to be in big trouble for making a racket. 

Thankfully he’s nowhere to be found, Iggy’s on the couch asleep and drooling all over himself as Mickey looks around for his mom. He watches her step backwards out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. 

“What is it my Mickey? What’re you screaming for?” She drops the dishtowel onto the over flowing dining table, bending down on creaky knees as she holds her arms out for her son. Mickey runs to her, heedless of the fact that he’s eight and is probably too big for cuddles.

He wraps his arms around her neck as his mother picks him up and carries him into the kitchen. She deposits him gently onto the kitchen counter so they’re more or less at eye level.

“Mama,” Mickey sniffs, trying very hard not to cry. “Mama, she stole it.”

“Stole it?” His mother’s brow furrows, causing the skin between them to wrinkle. Mickey reaches out without thinking, lifts a dirty finger and rubs at the crease until she relaxes. “Who stole what?”

“Angie, fat Angie from down the block---” His mother stops him when she squeezes his cheeks.

“Name calling isn’t very nice Mikhailo.” He knows he’s being reprimanded when she uses his full name. 

“She calls me Mucky Milkovich though mama.” He rubs knuckles against his cheek where his mom has squeezed him too hard.

“Hmm, well in that case.” She shrugs and gestures for him to carry on.

“She stole it mama!” He waves his arms around as if to stress the magnitude of the problem. “We was playing ninja’s, me, Colin and Angie cause we needed a look out and. She. Stole. It.” He runs out of breath and feels his eyes sting and he can’t help but let out a little tear. He watches as his mom reaches out to brush the moisture from his cheek. He leans in and whispers. “She stole my first kiss mama.”

“Oh.” He watches his mom’s eyes widen before she breaks out in a smile, eyes softening at him. “Oh Mickey, my Mickey. She can’t steal it, you have to choose to give it to her.”

“But I didn’t mama and she took it and now it’s gone!” And he cries because it was supposed to be special and he was saving it and Angie was the last person he wanted to give it to.

“It’s not gone sweetheart, not if you didn’t choose to give it away. Do you remember what I told you? That you have to choose the person you give it to? You haven’t made that choice so you’ve lost nothing.” She leans forward, presses a kiss to his forehead as he thinks this over.

“So she didn’t stole nothing? I still got it?” Mickey questions, fingers coming up to grasp the collar of his mom’s shirt, keeping her close.

“You’ve still got it. Don’t worry about Angie. Maybe she just likes you?” His mom grins at him and Mickey can’t help but stick his tongue out.

“I don’t like her, she calls me names and tries to get me to hold her hand.” He huffs.

“Definitely likes you then!” His mom laughs as Mickey shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thought.

“Well, she doesn’t like him anymore.” Colin walks into the kitchen, grinning. “Her nose is still bleeding from where you punched her Mickey.”

“MIKHAILO!” His mother shouts as Mickey hops down as quickly as he can from the counter and runs on short legs to his room.

***

Four years later his mother is dead and there is no one left to touch him with softness. Mickey decides there and then that no one, _no one_ would ever deserve his kisses.

***

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me.”

And he just has no fucking idea does he. Ian who probably doles out kisses to anyone and everyone on the regular, with no regard (or knowledge, to be fair) for the fact that Mickey’s never kissed anyone.

Mickey wiggles his nose, it’s warm as fuck out and he’s sweating and he can’t look Ian in the eye. The trigger is slippery under his finger and he wants to shoot that fuck Ned in the leg with it. Can’t get the image of his thin, wrinkly lips pressing themselves to Ian’s out of his mind.

“Gotta go---” he glances at Ian, just for a second to find his face has fallen. He jumps down, landing heavily and jarring his knee but he doesn’t care. He needs to get out of there.

“Mickey I’m---” Ian tries but Mickey cuts him off quickly.

“Let me know when you wanna do this shit.” He walks away. “See ya.”

Fucking Gallagher and his fucking pushing. _He isn’t afraid to kiss me._ It’s all Mickey can think about for days.

*

Mickey knows it’s going to happen. He knows he wants it to happen. He’s made his choice and he thinks his mother would approve. Approve of this ginger kid that’s barged his way into Mickey’s life, under Mickey’s skin, into Mickey’s heart. 

He’s eighteen and he’s never kissed anyone. He chooses Ian.

It feels like Mickey’s heart is going to fall out of his chest as he turns back, hops back into the van and leans in. It’s quick, it’s soft but firm and it’s his to give. He hops back out of the van just as fast and can’t help but grin, turn to flip Ian off only to find Ian with that soft, dopey look on his face, mouth hanging open.

Yeah, Mickey’s made the right choice. 

***

The cell door slams shut behind them as Mickey hops onto his lower bunk. He watches Damon heave himself up, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. There’s the nightly sound of something being pulled off the wall, the crappy tape they’ve been given barely holding shit up. He hears that lip smacking noise again.

“You fucking kissing that thing again? Fucking image is gonna wear away man.” Mickey gripes, rolling over in his bunk.

“Hey don’t be jealous gringo, just cause you aint got no hot mamacita on the outside waiting for your lips don’t get pissy with me, a’ight?” He can hear the smile in Damon’s voice.

It makes him think of Ian though, and that shit still hurts. Always will, probably. 

“Kissing’s overrated anyway man, don’t do that shit.” Mickey grumbles, sighing when he hears Damon’s feet hit the floor indicating the conversation isn’t going to end there.

“Nah, man. You mustn’t be doing it right.” Damon takes it upon himself to sit on the edge of Mickey’s bunk. “I kissed a lot of girl’s man but this one, the way she kisses me---” Mickey watches him shake his head, a whistle slipping out of his pursed lips. “Like she’s never gonna kiss me again, every time.”

Mickey thinks about the last time he kissed Ian, on the way home from the dugouts spattered with blood. Mickey had pushed Ian up against a wall right next to a dumpster and pressed his lips to Ian’s, again and again heedless of where they were or who could see.

“My mom said it’s special, kissing.” He’s quiet and he doesn’t know why he’s decided now is the time to share. Damon’s quiet, just listening. “You gotta give ‘em to someone special.”

He hears the bed creak as his cellmate shifts around, it’s quiet for a minute before Damon speaks.

“You give ‘em to someone special gringo?”

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut tight.

***

“C’mon Mickey, dance with an old lady!” Josefina is wiggling her shapely hips at him as she reaches a hand out. He grins gently, back stepping to dodge her grabby fingers.

“No can do I’m afraid, abuela.” He tips his beer bottle at her in apology as she shakes her head at him good naturedly. She shimmies away as Mickey drains the last of his bottle, drops it into the recycle bin at the bar.

“Yo Rafael, I’m out of here.” He nods at the man cleaning glasses behind the bar.

“Yeah, no worries Mickey. Thanks for stepping in at such short notice. See you Friday.” Rafael waves him away and Mickey heads out. 

The music from the bar drifts away the further he walks and his feet take him off the board walk and onto the beach. He pauses for a second, lifting his feet to tug his sandals off as he digs his toes into the warm sand beneath him. 

He heads down closer to the waves though the tides far out, he just wants to be alone for a bit. He can barely hear the waves lapping and it’s peaceful. No gunshots or car horns blaring, no cell doors slamming. 

No mouth running mile a minute about geometry theorems or why _this isn’t me anymore._

Mickey sighs, trying not to but he can’t help but think of the border. (The border, Ian, Ian, Ian, always Ian even now.)

He thinks a lot about kissing Ian at the border, of holding his face tight in tattooed hands and kissing him so deeply. Knowing that he and Ian were kissing like they were never going to kiss again, just like Damon had said.

He thinks he left his heart at the border that day.

He’s not sure how long he’s stood there before he turns, ready to head home to his cosy single room apartment and his cat. (The thing had turned up on his porch, refused to leave. Mickey didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. That and it had sharp claws.)

He stops before he’s even got started as he takes in the view. Ian’s stood there, neon green suitcase in hand looking like the epitome of a tourist with a town map in the other hand. He’s breathing heavily and his hairs so long it’s blowing in the breeze.

Mickey isn’t sure whether he wants to punch him or kiss him so he settles on doing absolutely nothing. He barely breathes.

“Suitcase was on sale, otherwise I would’ve got a different colour.” Ian’s grin is awkward, sheepish like he doesn’t find what he’s said funny at all. Mickey waits, he doesn’t think he’s got anything left to give. 

“Took me forever to find someone who could understand my broken Spanish Mick-” Ian laughs but there’s no humour in it. “Otherwise I’d still be wandering around the---” He cuts himself off, Mickey watches him shakes his head before he drops the handle of the suitcase.

“You’re under my skin too, Mickey.”

Mickey heaves in a breath, curses the moisture he can feel gathering at the corner of his eyes. He wants to tell Ian to fuck off, he wants not to cry, he wants to walk away. He wants none of that, he just wants Ian still, after everything. He doesn’t move.

Ian strides forward then, confident yet shaky steps as he cups Mickey’s face in long fingered hands. And for only the second time in all their years, Ian kisses Mickey. It’s too little time before Ian pulls back, only slightly so that when he speaks his lips still brush Mickey’s, an inadvertent kiss. Those freckled thumbs sweep over Mickey’s ears.

“Sorry I’m late.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://matchst-ck.tumblr.com/)


End file.
